


Off-Duty

by fansbyproducts (sisaat)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is a Dork, Cecil is a Fashion Disaster, M/M, POV Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisaat/pseuds/fansbyproducts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos runs into Cecil while grocery shopping. His off-duty look comes as a bit of a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off-Duty

Half a year after coming to Night Vale, the place still threw Carlos off constantly and even something as simple as grocery shopping had become a harrowing experience. Today, the produce section was mostly empty except for some quivering oblong vegetables that Carlos wasn’t quite desperate enough to try. Supposedly the store was also well-stocked in imaginary corn.

Carlos sighed and wandered into the cracker aisle instead. He found a box of Ritz crackers that seemed fairly normal. He pressed his ear against it and didn’t hear any wailing or skittering or otherwise unlikely noise, so he dropped it into his basket.

"Carlos?"

The scientist froze. He knew that voice. He knew the way it curled around his name. He had heard it on the radio on his very first day in Night Vale, and most days since, and he had to admit that it was a pleasant voice to listen to when he worked, or to fall asleep to, but he was a lot less fond of hearing it in person. Mostly because the man it belonged to, one Cecil Palmer, creeped him out quite a bit.

He had met the radio host a few times, usually during the aftermath of some strange event, as Carlos came to gather data and Cecil showed up to interview survivors, sharply dressed in a lavender shirt, deep purple tie and waistcoat, his silver hair perfectly combed. Even if he was there as a reporter, he always seemed to give Carlos most of his attention, trying to get an interview and complimenting his choice of clothes. Once, he even slipped him his number.

His interest was utterly baffling and Carlos kept his distances, but, after some observing and analyzing, he came to the conclusion that Cecil didn’t mean him any harm. The scientist slowly breathed in, then out, and turned to face his not-at-all-secret admirer. And then he gaped at him in a way that was probably not polite. This was the fist time they met while Cecil was off-duty and Carlos hadn’t been prepared for the sight.

The radio host had always been professionally dressed while on the job, but now he was a fashion disaster. He wore a bright yellow raincoat that wasn’t really appropriate for the sunny weather, an over-sized indigo shirt patterned with sequin silver stars, rainbow suspenders, and tie-dyed shorts worn over obnoxious yellow and pink polka-dotted leggings. Mismatched socks and orange crocs completed the look.

"…Cecil?" he asked, just to be sure it really was him, because that was hard to believe.

"Hi Carlos," the other man greeted with a timid smile. Cecil readjusted his glasses and fiddled with silvery hair that hadn’t seen a comb that day and rocked on the balls of his feet, not looking at him except for quick glances. His other hand clutched at a shopping basket filled with sliced rye bread, a family size jar of peanut butter and some of the quivering vegetables Carlos didn’t recognize. Or maybe they were fruits. He didn’t have enough data to tell. ”I hope you’re not here for fire, because they’re out again.”

"I noticed."

"It’s a shame, I meant to bake cookies." Cecil shifted in place. The hand that had been twirling a lock of hair around a finger lowered to rub his neck nervously. Carlos realized that he was probably waiting for some kind of response, so he gave a noncommittal grunt. Cecil chewed on his lip and rubbed his left foot against his right ankle. "I’ve been meaning to bake you cookies to welcome you to Night Vale, but I don’t really bake, so I had to, like, make several attempts so I could try to make them perfect, but then they banned wheat and wheat by-products and now I have to start over."

"Oh." Carlos wasn’t sure how to react to that. He was never sure how to react to Cecil’s attention. It was a little overwhelming.

"I’m so sorry, you’ve been here for months already and they’re going to be so terribly late."

"You don’t need to bake me cookies."

"Oh." Cecil looked down and his hand left his neck to join the other in holding his basket. He sounded so sad at what he took for a rejection of his late welcome gift that Carlos felt bad.

"I mean, it’s really nice of you." He tentatively reached out and patted Cecil’s arm before making his escape without another word.

Once at the end of the aisle, he dared look back at the peculiar man. Cecil was still standing right where he left him, half turned to stare at him with an expression of wonder and flushed cheeks, his hand pressed to the spot Carlos had touched. The scientist shook his head and walked away. Cecil still left him completely baffled, maybe even  _more_ baffled, but… now he seemed a little less creepy and a little more innocent. Something about knowing he had the fashion sense of a toddler made him a lot less threatening.


End file.
